


Not All Who Fall Are Angels

by Kieryana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Family, Friendship, Gen, Post-Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kieryana/pseuds/Kieryana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have been quiet, but when someone comes from Heaven looking for Castiel, all of that changes. Her presence on Earth will set off a chain of events, and the Apocalypse that the followers of the old teachings of Heaven have sought for may just come to pass. Can Castiel and boys stop it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

She peeked cautiously around the corner, staring down the endless white hallway. It took effort to keep her mind as clear and calm as possible, for she knew one stray thought could be her undoing. ' _They'_ were listening… always.

When the coast was clear, she slipped down the corridor toward her hopeful escape. The door she was looking for ended up being much further down the hall than she would have liked, but as long as she remained calm she would reach it.

Her footsteps seemed impossibly loud to her as she crept along, but there was no sign that she had been noticed or even missed. She resisted the urge to think of where 'they' may be or to review her plan as she neared her destination.

After what felt like an eternity, and it could very well have been for all she knew, she reached the pearlescent white door marked "42". She gingerly grasped the handle, looked once more the way she had come, and pushed the handle downward. The door silently opened, and she stepped through.

* * *

"I'm just sayin', it could have been a lot worse," said Dean as he lined up his shot; 4-ball, corner pocket.

The dingy dive bar a few miles down the road from their bunker had become the Winchester boys' frequent hangout since things had become relatively quiet. Heaven and Hell appeared to be pretty much in order, and they weren't going to go poking that with a stick if they didn't have to.

Dean made his shot easily, being the pool shark that he was, and prepared for his next as Sam looked on, leaning against the wall behind the pool table.

"Exactly," said Sam, gesturing as he spoke. "Why wasn't it? Don't you think that last case was a little too easy? I mean, what vamp just hangs around  _waiting_  to lose his head?"

Dean looks up from the table and shrugs. "Don't know. Don't care."

"Sam's right. It's been… unusual lately." Castiel was sitting on a nearby barstool watching as the boys played. "I'm afraid all may not be as quiet as -"

Castiel abuptly cut off and got to his feet.

"Cass? What's up?" asked Sam.

"I'm… not sure." Castiel tilted his head with the look of a cat listening intently for something people can't hear. Whatever he was listening for, he heard it, and he quickly made for the exit. "We have to go. Now. I'll drive."

The Winchesters exchanged puzzled looks, but Cass was already gone. Dean downed the last of his beer, and they quickly grabbed their jackets. Castiel was already in the driver's seat of the gold Lincoln Continental when the boys climbed in. Dean in the front, Sam in the back.

"Cass, what's going on? Where are we going?" It was Dean who asked this time.

Castiel started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot with a little more speed than he had intended, and the tires emitted a quick squeal of protest.

"I'm not sure, but I'll know when we're close." Castiel's eyes were staring dead ahead at a distant spot down the road.

"Ok, then  _why_  are we going, Cass? Sensed a disturbance in the Force, Obi-Wan?" Dean smiled at his own reference. There was a time when Castiel wouldn't have known what that meant, but thanks to Metatron, he had a pretty firm grasp on pop culture.

"Yes. Something isn't in Heaven that should be. Specifically,  _someone_."

"There was a jailbreak?" asked Sam. "How do you know?"

"Because I can hear her thoughts. She's here on Earth, but that's not possible." said Castiel, flatly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Great. Another rogue angel. Perfect."

"Not and angel," said Castiel. "An abstract."

The boys exchanged puzzled looks again.

"An abstract. Like an idea?" Sam asked, cautiously.

"More like a muse. Or a conscience. Abstracts are human souls that have never been born on Earth. They are each assigned an Earth-bound angel, and their main purpose is to keep the angel on task. To help them stay on their mission."

As Castiel explained, a small moment of sadness crossed his vessel's features.

"And so now one's loose? But she's human, right? So she's not dangerous," said Sam, stating this as the fact he hoped it was.

"No she's not a threat to us, but Heaven will be looking for her. We need to find her first."

"Why? She's Heaven's problem, not ours. So she beat the system. Good for her." Dean settled back in his seat, having made his point.

"It's not that simple. Human souls are not allowed to walk free in Heaven, and they are certainly not allowed to come to Earth if they are not to be born into it. Her being here could be catastrophic to both Heaven and Earth. Probably Hell, too."

"So much for 'quiet'," said Dean as he closed his eyes.

* * *

She sat on the cool damp ground, quietly enjoying the sensation. She had never felt  _anything_  before, and it was all so strange and new and wonderful. And terrifying. She hadn't really thought her escape plan through very well, because she had no idea what she would encounter when she reached Earth. And now she was alone, and scared, and alive. At least, she  _thought_  she was alive. She really didn't understand the sensation of the rhythmic thumping in her chest that seemed a little too fast. The light from the late afternoon sun caused an intense discomfort for her if she looked up.

 _Is this pain?_  she thought. It was the first thought she had allowed herself to have since before she attempted her escape. It came more or less unbidden, but the thought happened just the same. The next thought she had was very intentional.

_Castiel. Please find me._


	2. Found

Night was falling, and Castiel knew that he would have to find her soon. He had no idea what state she was in. Did she find a vessel? What if she was floating around, disembodied, and lost? Either way, he was afraid that she wouldn't survive long on her own. She may be human, but she knew nothing of Earth. He remembered how difficult it was for him when he had found himself suddenly human after The Fall, after Metatron had stolen his Grace. At least he had been among the humans, and the Winchesters, long enough to have a working knowledge of how to get by. Even if she had been watching and listening the whole time, it wasn't the same.

Sam had gone quiet, and Dean was actually asleep in the front seat. The twilight gave everyone in the car a ghostly glow, and the silence seemed taut and fragile. Sam wanted to ask so many questions, but he settled on just one.

"Why is it so important that we find her first?"

Castiel continued to stare straight ahead, but the corner of his mouth twitched a little. It was a slight smile and a wince all at once. The question tugged at so many things inside the angel that it was hard for him to remain stoic. After a few agonizing moments, he sighed in resignation.

"Because she is my charge," Castiel said, very quietly. "And I am hers."

* * *

 

The world had gone dark, and 'her' body was sending her more information than she knew what to do with. She had worked out that the tightness in her stomach was probably due to hunger, but she couldn't figure out why the tiny hairs on the flesh were raised or why she couldn't stop the shudders that were wracking her physical form. She curled up in the grass, tucking her knees into her chest. She pulled the light cotton garment she was wearing over her legs, covering her bare feet the best she could. She had watched Castiel's exploits on Earth enough to know that she was clothed in a garment from something called a 'hospital', and she found it completely absurd. The tie in the back hardly kept the thing closed, and it certainly wasn't flattering. It was then that she realized what was wrong with her vessel.

_I'm cold_ , she thought.  _How strange._

She almost called out to Castiel again, but she didn't want to risk someone else finding her. He was her angel, and he had most certainly heard her. The question was: would he come for her? She cleared her mind quickly and closed her eyes. She was tired, and there was nothing to do now but wait.

* * *

 

Shortly after midnight, Castiel pulled the car off to the side of the road. Dean was still sleeping; he clearly had more to drink than either Cass or Sam realized. Castiel shut off the engine and looked through the window that Dean was drooling on slightly.

"I can't hear her, but she's out there somewhere," he nodded to the darkness and the vague shape of trees. "She's close." He unbuckled his seat belt, left the keys in the ignition, and opened his door. He paused for a moment and looked back at Sam. "Stay here. I won't be gone long."

Sam thought about offering to help, but something in how Cass' eyes were pleading with him made him think better of it. He settled for: "Be careful."

Castiel nodded. He stepped out of the car and into the night.

The woods started about fifty feet from the road, but they didn't look as dense as they had from the car. Everything was shrouded in darkness, but there were definitely open spaces in which she would likely be. He knew that she called out to him, so she would make it as easy as possible for him to find her. Nothing was coming over Angel Radio, so he hoped he was the only one looking.

He followed a well-travelled path through the trees to a clearing. The bond between angel and abstract was very strong, and he could feel her pulling him. But he couldn't hear her, and that concerned him. He walked faster, letting the insistent tugging inside to lead him forward.

After a few more steps, Castiel's feet seemed to stop of their own accord, and he started to search around him. She was here, he knew it. His eyes scanned the trees, the bushes, the ground. He could feel the panic start to flutter inside him as he searched, and suddenly he felt as if he has been punched in the stomach. There in front of him, curled into a tight ball, was a young woman, roughly twenty years of age. She was pale, dressed only in a hospital gown, with her light auburn hair laid out in a spray around her head. She had a slight shimmer to her, like an aura. The purity of her soul was visible to all of a Supernatural origin, and it would draw those creatures to her.

Castiel reached down and placed a hand on her forehead. She was definitely alive, but very cold. He quickly shrugged off his tan trench coat and draped it over the unconscious form. In one quick motion he scooped her up into his arms, looked around quickly to be sure that there was no other being of consequence present, and turned back the way he came.

She was no burden for Castiel to carry as an angel, but she would have been light to a lesser being. The vessel that she had chosen was clearly underfed, or perhaps it was ill? There was color coming back into her cheeks, but that could be the occupying soul as much as it could be a sign of health. Once they were safe he would observe her more thoroughly.

* * *

 

Sam was now standing outside of the car, leaning against the hood. He ran a hand through his hair, temporarily dislodging it from behind his ear, and then absent-mindedly tucking it back again. Dean was still blissfully unaware that anything was happening outside of his alcohol-fueled dreams.

The younger Winchester looked down at his watch. It had been nearly thirty minutes since Cass ventured out into the darkness, and Sam was beginning to get worried. He was in the midst of arguing with himself about the merits of following the angel when he saw something white appear amongst the trees. It was Castiel's white dress shirt under his sports coat illuminated by the sliver of moon, and he was carrying something in his arms. As Castiel neared, Sam could see that he was carrying a girl, wrapped in his trench coat.

Sam quickly opened the back door of the car and stood aside as Castiel gently placed her in the backseat. "I'll drive," said Sam.

Castiel nodded again and slid into the backseat next to the girl, maneuvering her so her head was resting on his lap. She moaned slightly, fluttering her eyelids as he moved her. Castiel placed two fingers lightly on her forehead, and she went still. He didn't want her to wake until he knew they were safe and he could get to the bottom of the how and the why of her presence on Earth. He reached out to her with his Grace and quickly assessed her physical wellbeing. He was right; the girl was a bit malnourished and had traces illness and medication in her body. He then detected something else; this vessel was recently deceased.

He was partially relieved that she wouldn't be squatting in an already-occupied vessel, but he was also concerned about this particular vessel's structural integrity. Human souls can't heal a vessel the way angels could, and since she was technically not alive, he couldn't heal her either. She would have to live in this body for a time to build its strength, then he could help her.

Dean's light snoring and the rev of the engine were all the sounds that could be heard as the group made their way back to the bunker under the cover of darkness, illuminated only by that slip of a moon.


	3. Home

She felt as though she was being held down. Every muscle felt as if she were straining to break free of some invisible force. Everything was darkness around her, and there was an oppressive silence. She tried to pull her thoughts together, but they scattered as if they were alive, scampering to the far corners of her mind.

_Is this death?_ she thought. She knew Heaven. She knew that was where humans went when they died, and then another thought gripped her violently before it, too, rolled away. _Is this Hell?_

As she struggled to hold onto any train of thought, she felt a gentle warmth start to grow within her. It started in the center of her chest, then its soft tendrils curled outward, inching along until her entire body felt as if it were cradled in a warm blanket. It was then that she realized she was lying on something softer than the ground, though not by much, and she was covered by a warm and slightly scratchy material.

There was a gentle pressure on her right arm, but she was no longer being held down. Her muscles relaxed, and the strain she felt faded to a dull ache. Sounds started to reach her now. Mostly the distant rustle of voices somewhere far away, and a soft dripping sound somewhere closer. The darkness gradually fell away, and she slowly opened her eyes.

The first thing her eyes focused on was a mirrored medicine cabinet across the room. The mirror was slightly grimy and the grayish paint on the cabinet was peeling. She was busy contemplating the composition of the paint and why someone would choose such a dismal color when she became aware of a deep, slightly raspy voice to her right.

"Felicity," it stated, simply.

She turned her head with some effort. It felt like it was full of rocks, and they jostled a bit as she shifted. Her eyes slowly pulled away from the medicine cabinet, taking in the plain, dull, yellowed walls. She continued to scan the room until she happened upon a pair of blue eyes, the color of the sky just after dusk.

It took her a moment to register what she was looking at. They were human eyes, but they were so deep, so old, and so _familiar._ A pleased but slightly tired smile came across her lips.

"Hello, Castiel."

She looked down and realized that the weight on her arm was his hand. It was strangely large compared to the thin bones it was covering, but it was warm and comforting.

Castiel followed her gaze, but he made no motion to remove his hand. He was using the contact to continue to monitor her condition, and to mend what little he could without causing the frail vessel distress.

"Hello," he replied. He didn't smile back, but his eyes were not without warmth.

Felicity tested the muscles of her arms, flexing her fingers of each hand and then balling them into fists. They felt strong enough, if a little sore. She placed the palms of her hands on the bed and slowly pushed herself up to a seated position with her back against wall at the head of the bed.

Castiel made no move to help her, but he inched slightly closer in anticipation that he would need to catch her if her strength failed. He had worked some pliability back into her muscles, but he wasn't certain how long they would bear her weight. He was pleasantly surprised to see that she managed it, if a bit slowly. When he was satisfied that she was stable, he released her arm and reached toward the bedside table, producing a plastic cup of water.

"Drink," he ordered. He wasn't unkind, but he wasn't leaving any room for doubt as to who was in charge here.

She reached over and gingerly took the cup in both hands for fear of spilling. She lifted it to her lips, but then she paused, a little uncertain of what to do next. She knew that drinking was something people did, but she wasn't entirely sure how.

Castiel sensed her hesitation, and gently placed his fingers under the bottom of the cup, tilting the liquid toward her. At that point, her body knew exactly what to do. Before she knew what was happening, she had downed the whole thing. There was a fire in the back of her throat that she had been unaware of until the moment the water touched it, and the relief it brought was divine. Only once it was gone did she realize that she had been holding her breath in order to swallow, and she gasped, gulping at the air as she had the water.

"Easy," said Castiel. "There will be more." He looked at her with a careful eye, and he noted that she definitely looked better than she had the night he found her. A healthier blush had come back into her cheeks, and he touched her again he could feel her vitals normalizing as her tissues started to rehydrate.

As he took to the cup from her, he stood and moved toward the wall with the medicine cabinet. She hadn't noticed the sink below it until she heard the rush of water filling the cup. She couldn't see the tap because of Castiel's trench coat, but she strongly suspected that's where the dripping noise was coming from.

He sat back down at Felicity's bedside and handed her the cup. She quickly took it and was about to throw the whole thing back again when Castiel gently grasped her wrist, stopping her.

"Slowly," said Castiel. "This vessel has been damaged, and drinking too quickly may cause it to be sick."

Felicity studied him for a moment, but she reluctantly nodded. He released her, and she brought to cup to her lips and took a sip. The cool liquid lingered in her mouth this time, dousing the fires that resided within.

She had followed his instructions to his satisfaction thus far, so he decided he needed to press her for some answers.

"What are you doing here?"

Felicity looked down, clearly trying to avoid his line of questioning. He reached out with his free hand and placed it beneath her chin, pulling her gaze upward to meet his. When their eyes met, she was struck by an odd sensation. He was looking at her with such sincerity, and concern, and even a little bit of anger; her immediate reaction was to curl in upon herself. She felt a hard lump form inside her chest that caused the warmth to rise in her cheeks, and that's when she realized what she was feeling. She was feeling shame.

She had broken the most important rule that abstracts must follow: to guide, but to never interfere. No human soul had escaped Heaven to come to Earth, because to do so was sacrilege. Now that she had, she was a living, breathing abomination, and no amount of penance could wash that clean.

"I came for you," she said quietly. "Do you know how frustrating it was? I watched as you were used again and again for others' agendas. I tried to warn you. I tried to help you, but you shut me out. If you wouldn't come back to me, I had to go to you. It's as simple as that."

Her eyes shimmered with tears as she searched his face for an answer. She couldn't be sure if it was the watery lens through which she saw his face, but she swore she saw his expression melt into one of sadness. She pulled the back of her hand across one eye and then the other, clearing her vision.

Castiel considered her for a moment before answering. "I heard you. I would never shut you out, but I was blinded by my own hubris. Time and again, I placed my trust in those I shouldn't have." It was he that looked down this time. "I couldn't make it right. It was... easier this way."

"You could have trusted me," she said plainly.

Both were silent for a moment. Felicity tipped the cup to her lips again, allowing the refreshment of the water to distract her.

"I could have. I'm sorry," he murmured.

* * *

 

"She appears to have been delivered safely."

Stone walls met stone floor, and all was stillness and gray except for the orange glow in the corner from a fire that would have been deemed 'cozy' if it weren't for the sparseness of the room. The room had a medieval feel to it, almost like something from an Arthurian tale. Or it would have it weren't for the distinct superficiality making it feel more like something from a medieval-themed dinner show. An unearthly sheen washed over everything, including the two plush armchairs near the fire and the two men who occupied them.

"She was. Everything went according to plan." The man speaking appeared to be a man in his forties, well-dressed with slightly graying hair. His companion was younger, muscular. He was the classic definition of 'handsome'; he almost looked like a storybook hero, but his eyes seemed to tell a tale of darker things. "The pieces are in play. We just have to make sure they do as they are meant to."

"I don't think that will be a problem," said the younger man. "I know her well, and she's already completed the most difficult task."

The older man smiled. "A great deal of thanks is owed to you for that part. It was easy enough to find her a vessel, but to get her to defy God's law? That took a special sort of finesse."

"She trusts me." A sly smile spread across the younger man's face, exposing a single dimple in his left cheek. "And as long as they all behave as I expect they will, the dominos should fall exactly as they're supposed to."


	4. First Thing's First

Felicity couldn't find the words in any language on Earth or in Heaven to describe the deliciousness of that first shower. The comfort of warm water running over her skin, the delightful floral scent of the shampoo, the stinging sensation in her eyes as she tried to figure out how to  _use_  the shampoo; all of it was exhilarating to her. She probably would have continued to revel in the experience until she was thoroughly pruned, but she was interrupted by three sharp knocks on the bathroom door.

"Felicity? Are you alright?" Castiel's voice barely carried over the sound of the running water.

She reluctantly turned the taps until the water stopped flowing, and she stepped, sopping wet, out of the shower. She opened the door and smiled broadly at the very startled angel.

"Have you  _tried_  this?" she asked breathlessly.

Castiel didn't know where to look. She was standing in front of him, naked, and dripping water all over the floor. He eventually settled for looking at the ceiling. In one arm he had a fluffy green towel, and in the other a set of clothes. He thrust the towel at her.

"Uh...I suggest you dry off before you get cold."

She looked down at her own nakedness and took the towel he offered her. She roughly rubbed it all over herself until her skin was flushed but she was no longer wet, save for her hair, which was now hanging limply and slightly matted. She then handed the towel back to Castiel.

With his eyes still firmly gazing at the ceiling he took the towel from her and handed her the clothes. "Here. Put these on."

Her eyes lit up as she took the clothes from him. They were simple enough; a pair of dark blue jeans, a red and blue plaid button down, and a green shirt with some sort of legend named Zelda written on it. There was also a pair of panties, socks and a bra. She continued to stand in the doorway as she examined each article.

Exasperated, Castiel finally looked at her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around and marched her back into the bathroom. Once she was safely out of view, he turned and locked the door.

"You can't...just stand there, naked. It makes people uncomfortable."

She studied him for a moment, still holding the clothes. "Why? Everyone's naked under this stuff." She shook the pile at him for emphasis.

"Because it does. It invokes certain biological urges that are...inappropriate in some situations. And some people are uncomfortable with their bodies and feel shame in seeing others."

Felicity tilted her head slightly to the side. "Why would anyone be ashamed of their body? How can anyone be ashamed of something that is capable of such wonderful sensations? Each is special and wonderful and belongs to solely  _them-_ -" she stopped short, suddenly remembering that this body  _wasn't_ hers.

Castiel sensed her sadness. He wasn't particularly good at picking up human social cues, but he knew her as well as he knew anything. He gave her a small but comforting smile.

"Yes. But I think people sometimes forget what a gift it is to be alive. And to be human. They really are unique among God's creatures." He walked toward her and reached out his hand. "Here," he said. "Let me help you with those."

She nodded and handed him the bundle of clothes.

* * *

 

Sam and Dean were sitting at the long table in the main library of the bunker, eating their breakfasts and scouring several newspapers. Sam was noshing on an egg-white omelette and peanut butter on whole wheat toast, while Dean had his forkful of yellow omelette raised, waiting until he had finished his mouthful of bacon before shoveling that in. It was mostly quiet save the sounds of rustling paper and the clink of silverware on chipped plates. They were engrossed in the news of the day, looking for hints of a case.

Felicity slipped silently into the room, careful not to make any sudden movements that would startle the boys. She was just enjoying watching them, like some sort of rare creatures observed in their natural habitat. Cass was close behind her, but he didn't catch up until she was almost within reach of the Winchesters. Anticipating her next move, he grabbed her by the elbow and shook his head slightly.

"Morning, Cass." Dean said, without looking up from his paper.

"Dean," Cass stated simply, nodding to each. "Sam. This is Felicity."

He had barely gotten her name out when Felicity wrenched free of Cass' grasp and scampered over to Dean. Before Dean even had a chance to look up, she had wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly. He nearly choked on his mouthful of egg, and he looked over at Sam who was laughing silently to himself.

"Uh, hi." He looked down a the top of her head, for that was all he could see of her as she was still very insistently burrowed into his side. "Felicity, huh. Like that TV show?"

"Abstracts are named by the angels they're assigned to. Usually either a trait the abstract exhibits or one that the angel admires," Castiel stated matter-of-factly as Felicity muttered something similar into Dean's shoulder.

Dean began to shift uncomfortably, and that was her cue. Felicity released him, flashed him a smile, and then summarily tackled the younger Winchester. "It's so nice to finally meet you guys in person! Like,  _actual_ , real-life, corporeal person!" Sam looked toward Cass with a look that was equal parts amusement and confusion.

"Through watching Castiel, I feel like I know you, and I know we're gonna be great friends!"

"She's… excited," Cass growled as he moved to rescue Sam. He gripped the upper part of her arm, compelling her to release her hostage. The boys finally got their first good look at her as Cass pulled her to his side. All amusement at the girl's antics faded away, and Dean's face fell.

There in front of him was this wisp of a girl, just barely over five feet tall. And she was dressed in Charlie's clothes. The dark blue pants were rolled up at the bottom and much of the ensemble was clearly just a bit too big for her, but these were unmistakably Charlie's things.

"Cass." Dean could only get the word out as barely a growl. "A word." Dean got up from the table and crossed to the far side of the room. Sam gave Felicity a small apologetic smile before following his brother.

Cass looked down at Felicity as he released her. "Stay here." She opened her mouth to say something, but then her eyes fell upon the nearly full plate of bacon left unattended on the table.

She smiled at Cass with the most innocent look she could muster. "No problem."

He cocked his head slightly, but then he turned and walked toward the brothers. Felicity slid into one of the seats at the table and gingerly took a piece of bacon from the plate.

"What the hell, Cass. No,  _seriously_. What the hell?" Dean's expression was cold, but that couldn't hide the anger smoldering in his eyes. "Why is she dressed like that?"

Castiel looked back at him with a palpable righteous indignation. The angel loved Dean, and he loathed to hurt the man that he had grown so fond of in all their time together. But he was also responsible for the welfare of the abstract that came all this way to protect him, and in this case, her needs outweighed Dean's feelings.

"I know that Charlie meant a lot to you. I meant no disrespect to you or her memory, but Felicity needed clothes. It's just temporary-"

"Damn right it's temporary," spat Dean. His anger was now barely concealed, just below that stone-cold expression.

"It is. I will get her clothes of her own, and then I will put Charlie's things back where I found them." Castiel looked deep into Dean's eyes, willing him to understand. "I only knew Charlie for a short time, but I know she was kind. I believe that she would have wanted to help."

"Dean, he's right. Charlie would have." Dean broke away from Cass' gaze and looked at his brother. Sam had been silent until now, and he certainly wasn't saying anything that Dean wanted to hear.

After a moment, Dean let out a sigh and looked back toward the table, and his anger returned.

Felicity was still sitting at the table, but now the plate of bacon was empty. The last piece was in her hand, on its way toward her.

"HEY!" Dean shouted.

Felicity froze, bacon inches from her open mouth. Her blue eyes wide with surprise.

Dean stared at the girl, but he felt his anger fade away and a slight smile of amusement passed over his lips. "Great. Now's she's eaten all my bacon."

She was unsure of exactly which transgression she had committed, but she could sense it was unforgivable and was instantly sorry. Felicity rose from the table and cautiously crossed the room to where the three men were standing. As she neared, her pace slowed slightly, but she was beelining right for Dean.

She stopped a few feet from them, and she held her right hand out to the elder Winchester. In her grasp was that last piece of bacon, and she was holding it out to him in supplication. She looked up to him with wide, glassy eyes, and Dean instantly melted.

He took the piece of bacon from her with one hand while the other was fishing inside his jean's pocket. From the pocket he produced a wad of bills which he handed over to Castiel.

"Take her shopping. Find her some clothes that fit." Castiel nodded and placed the money into the inside pocket of his trench coat. Dean added, sadly, "Just get her out of my sight."


	5. Questions

Felicity sat on the bed in the room that the boys had apparently designated as hers. The bedspread was a dull tan color and slightly scratchy, but she didn't mind. When she and Castiel had returned from their shopping trip, the boys had gone out, but they had cleaned her room a bit before they left. The dingy medicine cabinet had been scrubbed, so it was not nearly as grimy as when she had first laid eyes on it, and there was a clean glass with a single red toothbrush set upon the sink. The bed was made, and the shelves nearby had been recently dusted. The room was sparse, but they had done their best to make it welcoming.

Castiel did not disappoint in the shopping trip. She acquired several pieces of clothing, some of which had spawned much debate between herself and the angel. She had fallen in love with a pair of sneakers that lit up with each step, but Castiel was not having it. They eventually settled on a more sensible pair of red converse low-tops, a few pairs of jeans, a hoodie, and several t-shirts with various things printed on them. She was particularly fond of a purple shirt with a unicorn on it featuring the slogan, 'Always be yourself, unless you can be a unicorn. Always be a unicorn.' That one struck her as particularly funny.

He also bought her, after much pleading on her part, a small brown bear. She knew about teddy bears, but she had never seen one. Once she laid eyes on it in one of the stores she had to have it. The bear was now resting in her lap, her hands folded around it holding it to her stomach. And she smiled. Castiel had named her Felicity for her ever-present joy and boundless energy, but this is the first time she had ever felt content. She always felt as though Heaven was a prison. Angels controlled everything. Here she could have desires and strive to achieve them. Or at the very least, she could guilt Castiel into buying her a stuffed bear.

* * *

 

"So what's the play, Cass?"

Sam, Dean, and Castiel were all seated at the reading table in the library. The angel was alone on one side of the table, and the Winchesters were on the other. Dean was leaning back in his chair, but he was looking intensely at Castiel. He wanted an answer, and he wanted it now.

"I don't know yet," said Castiel.

This did not satisfy Dean in the slightest. He started to open his mouth when Sam chimed in, rescuing the angel from what he was sure was going to be an unpleasant tongue-lashing. "Can't you just take her back to the portal? Can't she just go back to Heaven?"

Castiel frowned. "it's not that simple. Humans can't come to Earth on their own. Each soul has a specific path laid out for it, and her path was to remain in Heaven." He looked down at the table, and the creases in his forehead deepened as he turned things over in his mind. "I don't even know how she came to be here. She couldn't have come on her own. She could never have escaped Heaven, much less found a vessel so quickly. She must have had help."

"Great," said Dean as he placed his hands flat on the table and started to rise from his chair. "So we just deliver her back to whoever brought her here. Return to sender."

Cass was on his feet and standing next to Dean before Dean could step away from the table.

"We don't know who that is." Cass' voice was steady, but determined. He needed Dean to understand. "It could be an angel. It could be a demon. It could be God Himself. We just don't know, and we don't know why they would do this. I doubt there was a pristine motive behind it, and I'm not going to just deliver her into the hands of someone who is clearly using her for some darker purpose."

The men were inches apart and both clearly steadfast in their argument. Sam could only watch helplessly as Dean and Castiel were locked in their staring match. After a few moments, which to everyone in the room felt like hours, Dean's posture changed. His shoulders relaxed and a softness came over his face. Then he sighed.

"Fine. She can stay here until we find out more. But she's  _your_  responsibility, Cass. I ain't no babysitter." Dean studied Cass' face for a moment while he saw his words make their impact.

"She won't be a problem."

"Good." Dean was finally satisfied with this answer, and he headed toward his room.

"He doesn't really mean it, you know," said Sam. Castiel had almost forgotten he was there.

"He thinks he does." Castiel had been staring where Dean's back had disappeared from view. He now turned to look at the younger Winchester. "I know that this is difficult for him. Demons, monsters, he knows how to handle creatures of the darkness without even thinking. A young woman who probably reminds him a little bit of someone that was so dear to him, that will take some time for him to find his way."

* * *

 

Sam had already retired to his own room for the night, and Castiel was left sitting alone at the table. He kept running scenarios through his mind, but nothing he thought of made things any clearer. The shopping trip was quiet enough. He could see her for what she truly was, and he was sure so could every angel, demon, and monster they would encounter. Thankfully, they didn't encounter any. He supposed he should give thanks for small blessings, but it was unusual that there would be no one of a supernatural origin about. A mall would be the perfect place for a any number of creatures to stalk their prey, so where were they? For every answer he thought he found, there were just more questions.

_Who helped her? And why? What would there be to gain from bringing a pure soul down to Earth? Was she to be delivered somewhere? To someone? For what purpose?_

He knew the value of a human soul. He had conjured thousands into being once to gain their power, and he would think back on that time with shame and regret. He had undone that particular damage just to inflict more damage later. What damaged is intended by her?

Whatever plans someone had for Felicity, the power of a  _pure_  human soul would be more than anyone would have dared to harness in the past. Whoever put this plan into motion had big plans on the horizon, and Castiel was sure it wasn't good.

Castiel felt fatigued. Not that he needed rest, angels don't need sleep (or food, or personal hygiene which the Winchesters always found a bit questionable), but he was just going around in circles in his mind.

He got up from the table and took the long corridor towards the room where he had left Felicity admiring her new things.

The door to her room was slightly ajar, and there was a soft yellow glow coming from inside. He knocked lightly on the door as he opened it to reveal Felicity's sleeping form on the bed, curled up on her side, clothed in a pair of pink flannel pajamas, with her teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

Castiel smiled to himself. He had never shut her out, but he did forget the bond they had in earlier days. They conversed more as equals in Heaven, but here on Earth, she seemed almost childlike to him. Then he wondered,  _is this how Dean felt about me?_  He remembered being uncertain in his surroundings, even while being certain in his purpose. He stumbled into many social pitfalls over the years, and he now understood the amused looks he elicited from the Winchesters from time to time.

He walked to her bedside and gazed down at her. She gave no response to his presence, and he envied the blissful look on her face as she was experiencing dreams for what must be the first time. He reached down and untucked the bedspread, pulled it out fully, and draped it over her.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered, and he walked out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.


	6. Bacon Heals All Wounds

Dean was awoken the next morning by the growling of his stomach. His eyes were still closed as he tried to hold onto the dream he was having involving a rather bendy gymnast. As her slender figure, and strangely ample bosom, disappeared into the dark, he was suddenly aware of the sweetest smell known to God and man.

Bacon.

He slowly opened one eye, and there beside him on his nightstand was a plate piled high with bacon. It was still steaming, and he could feel the heat from where he lay on the bed. Dean shot up quickly, pulled his handgun from its hiding spot behind the headboard, and he was on his feet. With both hands on his weapon, he scanned the room. Nothing else was disturbed, and his door was still closed. He relaxed and looked back to the plate of bacon. Behind it was a cup of coffee. It was a little paler in color than he normally took it, but he picked up the mug and sipped it. He tilted his head back and forth and frowned in a "not bad" sort of gesture, then placed the mug back on the nightstand and put his gun down beside it.

He padded barefoot over to the sink and turned the taps until a steady stream of cold water was flowing. He splashed some water on his face, pulled his damp hands through his hair and sighed as he smiled to himself. He turned off the water, grabbed the mug and plate, and headed off to the library to enjoy this bounty.

When he got there he saw Sam and Castiel were already seated at the table. Sam was digging into a bowl of disgustingly bland Cheerios, while Cass was tentatively typing something into Sam's laptop. Sam had been teaching him how to use the computer to search databases and create false identities, but the angel still had a lot to learn, including how to type faster than someone's 90-year-old grandmother.

Dean dropped the plate into the middle of the table and grabbed a strip from the top.

"Most people work their whole lives to achieve a heart attack," Sam scoffed. "You must be going for the record."

" _I_ didn't cook all this. I just got up and there it was. Like it was dropped off by some magical bacon fairy." Dean took a seat next to his brother. He put the cup of coffee down on the table as he devoured the strip of bacon in his hand.

"It was Felicity," said Castiel, smiling. "She felt badly that she had eaten all your bacon yesterday, so she got up early and cooked it for you. She made the coffee too."

"It took me a couple of tries, but I think I finally got the hang of it," said a soft voice.

Dean turned and Felicity was standing a bit behind him, as if she wanted to be sure she had enough of a head start if she had to make a run for it.

"I did end up lighting one of the dishtowels on fire…" Dean raised his eyebrows as Felicity waved her hands quickly and interjected, "but everything's fine now! I didn't realize how combustable pigs were. They should really put that on the label."

The room suddenly echoed with laughter, and Felicity was momentarily confused, but she joined in as well since she would never pass up an opportunity to laugh.

Dean slid his chair back and got to his feet. As he turned, Felicity abruptly stopped laughing and tensed in a moment of fight or flight. Before she knew what was happening, he had his arms around her and pulled her in to his chest. She was so surprised that she just stood there limply, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Thanks, kiddo," Dean said warmly.

Felicity could feel those two words reverberate through his chest as he hugged her, and it was the most wonderful sensation that she had experienced to date, and that includes the relief she felt when she finally realized how to use the toilet.

"However you may not want to make so much next time," Dean continued. "We're gonna be eating BLTs for a week."

"And you know how he feels about eating his vegetables," Sam chimed in.

"Damn straight," Dean responded on cue.

Dean released her. She looked up at him and beamed, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Now come on. You have to help me with all this. Whoever drops from a heart attack first loses." Dean turned back to his chair and sat down.

Felicity bounded over to the table and took a seat next to Castiel. Her rear had barely touched the chair before she had jammed a whole bacon strip in her mouth.

* * *

 

"This is taking too long."

The older man was busy looking at something on the hearth of the fireplace, but the younger was clearly getting agitated. He was seated and still, but there was a very palpable tension coursing through him.

"What are we going to do? It's taking too long," the younger man said again.

"Patience." The older man still hadn't turned to look at his companion. "I see her growing in strength. It's only a matter of time before the cracks start to show."

"Hermesiel." The younger man's voice was anxious, and that caused corner of Hermesiel's mouth to twitch in amusement.

He turned and fixed the younger man in a bemused stare which caught him off-guard.

"And what would you have me do, Valor?"

If Valor had blood, it would have turned cold. This angel was not known for having much of a sense of humor, and the smile he was wearing was hardly comforting.

True to his namesake trait, Valor did not flinch. He stood calmly, but he made no move to come closer to Hermesiel. He knew better than that.

"We need to force her hand. Being who she is,  _what_  she is, it will require an extreme situation to bring her to the edge if we have any hope of completing our task. We can't trust that to fate."

Hermesiel was no longer amused. Now he was curious, and that was almost as dangerous.

"And what is it that you suggest?"

Valor knew what needed to be done, but he wasn't certain his charge would agree. Angels were loathe to put their own in danger unless the ends justified the means.

"We need to threaten something she loves. We need take Castiel."


	7. Angels and Demons

_The afterlife is not all it's cracked up to be._

Jack was sitting at a grimy coffee counter in a greasy spoon officially on the outskirts of the middle of nowhere. Had he gone to Heaven like all the good little boys and girls, perhaps he'd feel differently. But no one ever tells you just how much Hell is going to SUCK. Well, they do, but no one ever believes it.

He stepped away from the counter, leaving the little white slip with a five-dollar-bill on it, and walked out into the parking lot. He began to walk down the empty road toward nothing in particular.

Sure, he had done some things in life that he probably wouldn't have if given the opportunity to do it all over again, but he found the whole if  _I knew then what I know now_  line to be a bit tired. But then again,  _he_  was tired.

He was tired of poking around in the emptiest corners of the country, corrupting souls and wreaking havoc in the desolation of the American Midwest. If someone sells their soul in the Plains, does it make a sound? Jack could tell you for certain... no, not really. Not enough for anyone to give a crap, anyway.

However, he couldn't argue that being here was better than being down below. He may have been bored to the point of wanting to rip out his own spleen (well, the spleen of the poor bugger he was possessing), but at least he was topside. Up here he could pretty much do as he pleased as long as he sent enough souls downward, but lately, things had started to change.

Human souls were still around in abundance, but Jack noticed something odd. There weren't as many monsters about, and he hadn't seen another demon for months. Demons didn't tend to hunt in packs, mind you, but he normally would run across one or two (and when he would 'run across' them, that usually meant hiding until they went away, quota be damned... if you excuse the expression). Monsters, on the other hand, were normally out and about, chewing on someone or another.

Jack had actually made a game out of their hunting rituals. He would stalk the same prey, and he would try to get to them first. If he managed to turn them before the monster got them, that was just one more soul sent south by express mail.

But things had gotten quiet, and that's saying something for the soft underbelly of America. News never reached him in a timely fashion, but Jack had heard whispers, rumblings about some epic chess match that would change the landscape of everything in creation. He had no idea what this meant, but he could only assume that it was enough to cause most things with teeth to hunker down.

It didn't bother him, though. He was already damned, how much worse could it possibly get?

"Much, much worse," responded an unfamiliar voice.

Jack stopped abruptly. That voice didn't sound much like the one inside his head, and a quick glance to his left verified that it certainly wasn't. He pulled himself together and looked the newcomer in the eye. He was a demon of Hell, for goodness sake, no one startles him! And then he realized what he was looking at, and he went from startled to petrified.

Standing in front of him was a towering man, but Jack wasn't seeing much of the man. He was too busy being blinded by the angel  _inside_  the man.

"Don't look so terrified. I'm not here to smite you."

The angel smiled, but that didn't do much to ease the fear growing inside the demon (which might very well have been the human inside... it's so hard to tell these days).

"What  _are_  you here for, then?" Jack said with more much more bravado than he thought he could muster, given that he might very well have been peeing his pants a little.

"I'm going to offer you a very rare opportunity. One that I'm certain a smart man such as yourself would not dare to pass up." The smile was still plastered to the angel's face, and it was growing ever more disconcerting with each passing moment.

Jack was intrigued though, which made for an interesting emotional maelstrom swirling inside of him.

"Usually I'm the one offering opportunities. What is it that you could possibly want to offer me?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I'm going to offer you a once-in-a-millenium, two-for-one deal. I'm going to give you everything you need, and when you're finished, you will have in your possession one fallen angel and one pure human soul."

The demon's eyes widened in disbelief. A fallen angel was certainly a prize in and of itself, but a  _pure_  human soul?

"That's... not possible," Jack said, before he even realized the words had fallen out of his mouth. "A pure human soul is in Heaven. Unreachable." The angel stepped closer, and Jack's attempt to step back yielded nothing but an awkward shifting of his weight from foot to foot.

"I can assure you that it's not only possible, but I have already brought the soul to Earth. All you need to do is claim it."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sure angels had incredible powers, but this was something that would be beyond even them, right? Thoughts whirled inside Jack borrowed head, and all he managed to squeak out was, "Tell me how."


End file.
